


continuation

by artenon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Developing Relationship, First Dates, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 01:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15377478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artenon/pseuds/artenon
Summary: Kuroo and Tsukishima's relationship progresses with the seasons.





	continuation

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello!! this piece was made for sportsfest main round 1. even though we're on team grandstand and don't have to do main round, [cai](https://twitter.com/blacktreecle) and i decided to team up to make an entry just for fun! 
> 
> the theme for this round was **colours**. i wrote the fic and cai drew the art (including the header banner), but this fic wouldn't have been possible without cai's support and brainstorming help, so basically what i'm saying is she should get like 70% of the credit.
> 
> no but really, please do like/retweet/reblog cai's art ([twitter](https://twitter.com/blacktreecle/status/1020730406574829569) | [tumblr](http://foldedstars.tumblr.com/post/176129760823/)) because it's beautiful and adds so much to the written component
> 
> also, we named ourselves team wonderwall because something something bad joke about middle blockers
> 
> enjoy!

* * *

**Summer**

Kei wipes his brow with his forearm. It doesn’t accomplish anything, as his forehead and arm are equally sticky with sweat. He tugs his shirt up instead, pushing it under his glasses to wipe the stinging salt out from his eyes.

Someone collapses beside him with a loud groan and Kei lowers his shirt, tilts his head against the sun and looks down.

“Kuroo-san.”

Kuroo splays out in the grass on his back, staring at the clear blue sky above them, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. His face finds refuge in the shadow cast by Kei’s body. “You lost too, huh.”

“Against Shinzen,” Kei confirms. “But you knew that. Maybe the reason you lost is because you keep looking over at another team’s court?”

“No, I think we lost because Bokuto is a pain in the ass spiker.”

Kei snorts but lets the answer slide. “I’m not sure why you’re so interested in us, anyway. We’re clearly the worst team at this training camp. You’d be better off observing the teams you might actually have to play against in preliminaries.”

“Is that what you think, or what you want me to think?” Kuroo asks. He crosses his arms behind his head, staring up with such intent focus that Kei can’t help but follow his gaze upwards.

It’s a clear blue summer day, the sun at its peak, unobscured by the few clouds drifting lazily across the sky. It’s almost too bright to look at; Kei squints against it, but when he looks back down, Kuroo hasn’t wavered.

“You’re uncoordinated now, but it’s gonna be hell playing you guys at nationals.”

The coach and setter at Nekoma aren’t the only ones with keen eyes, it seems. While the other teams wonder why Karasuno is so off-kilter this week, Kuroo sees the weapons they are steadily polishing.

“If,” Kei says, “we make it to nationals. That goes for both of us, you know.”

“I don’t have time to think about ‘if.’ I tell myself, _I’m going_ , and then do everything in my power to make it happen.”

He turns to Kei, mouth set in a determined line. His eyes seem to gleam even shadowed. Kei thinks of the way Kuroo shut down Bokuto’s spike two nights ago, making it look almost effortless, and wonders if it really was just the sharp, decisive smack of the volleyball against Kuroo’s arm that startled his heart into skipping a few beats.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” Kuroo says.

“Huh?”

“I pissed you off the other night. I’m sorry.”

“Didn’t you do that on purpose?” He figured Kuroo said stuff like that to everyone all the time. He didn’t expect him to care, or even remember.

Kuroo winces. “See, that’s why I have to apologize. I just wanted to rile you up, not make you upset.”

Huh. Kei recalibrates his perception of Kuroo in his mind before shaking his head in dismissal. “It’s in the past. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo says. “Something changed, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t have come back last night, asking what you did.”

It’s difficult to discern Kuroo’s expression. It seems almost expectant, but expecting what, Kei doesn’t know. Answers, maybe, truths Kei isn’t prepared to tell?

Their gazes catch. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of Kei’s face.

“Well, it’s none of my business,” Kuroo says, breaking eye contact as he turns his face straight up again, and some invisible force releases its grip on Kei’s lungs.

“Tsukki! We’re going back.”

Kei turns to where Yamaguchi is waving him over from a few feet down the slope. Hinata bounces from foot to foot beside him, not racing Kageyama back downhill for once.

“Right.” He doesn’t look at Kuroo when he says, “Excuse me.”

He stands, but warm fingers wrap around his ankle before he can take the first step.

“Wait,” Kuroo says. “Will you come practice with us again tonight?”

It’s hard to think with Kuroo’s fingers pressing into his skin. His heart, just calmed from the sprint uphill, picks up again. He looks down at Kuroo’s face and finds it surprisingly neutral and serious. Kei swallows. “Sure.”

Kuroo’s grin surfaces as he releases his hold on Kei. “Okay! See you there, Nobukatsu-kun.”

Kei stiffens in surprise, then huffs and stalks away, the sound of Kuroo’s light laughter following him.

“Tsukishima!” Hinata says, bouncing along beside him and Yamaguchi. “Yamaguchi said you practiced with Kuroo-san and the captain from Fukurodani last night!”

“I’m too tired to listen to you, so please shut up,” Kei says.

“But you got to practice with them, right? Right?”

“Yes.”

“What the heck, Tsukishima! You’re so lucky.”

Kei sighs and glances upward. Everyone else is always looking up, unflinching and unafraid. He shields his eyes from the sun with his hand, squinting against the bright blue sky of endless possibility. He’s not like Hinata and Kuroo and Yamaguchi. He doesn’t have that resolve anymore.

At least, he didn’t think he did.

“Yeah,” he says. “Lucky.”

He might believe it a little more than he makes it sound.

* * *

 

**Autumn**

“Wait,” Kuroo says, and Kei stills his plastic fork over the thick slice of ube roll cake they just bought. “I want to take a picture.”

“Are you serious?” He withdraws his hand.

“Yes,” Kuroo says, already positioning his phone and leaning back in his seat. “It’s pretty.”

It looks like a normal roll cake to Kei, rich purple with a tight roll and clean spiral of whipped cream inside. Two swirls of whipped cream have been neatly piped on top of the cake. It’s pretty, yes, but not worth the effort of a picture.

Kuroo’s tongue sticks out a little as he squints at his phone. “Aaand click.”

It would almost be cute, if Kei wasn’t so impatient for the cake. “Can I eat now?”

“Yes, yes, dig in,” Kuroo says, slipping the phone away.

This time, Kei gets as far as pressing his fork into the cake and feeling it spring back under the light pressure before Kuroo stops him again.

“Hold on.”

Kei pauses, eyebrow ticked.

“As the birthday boy,” Kuroo says with a smirk, “shouldn’t I get the first bite?”

“It’s past your birthday.”

“Semantics. You came here for my birthday, ergo I am the birthday boy.”

Kei brings his arm back.

“Just kidding,” Kuroo says. “You can have the first bite.”

“You’re insufferable.”

He reaches forward again slowly, eyes locked with Kuroo, daring him to say anything else, but he remains silent as Kei pushes the fork through the cake and carves out a good-sized bite.

He holds the fork out across the little round table. Kuroo looks thoroughly surprised, and Kei smiles and says, “Well, birthday boy?”

Kuroo’s blush is all the more apparent in the fluorescent interior of the bakery. He’s oddly bashful today, just here and there; Kei thought he would be cool and collected about the whole thing, at least outwardly. True to expectation, he seems to brush off the fluster as he flashes Kei a careless grin and leans forward over the table. He seals his lips around the fork and drags backwards. Kei pinches the fork a little harder between his thumb and the joint of his forefinger and tries not to watch too closely.

“Mm.”

Kuroo leans back in his seat, chews and makes an appreciative noise in his throat after he swallows. His tongue darts out and licks up purple cake crumbs stuck to his lips.

Kei stubbornly does not react.

“It’s good,” Kuroo says. “Have a bite.”

Kei does, suppressing a smile at how sweet and delicious it is.

“Well?”

“It’s good,” Kei echoes. “The cake is spongy but moist. It’s a nice even purple with no discoloration, and the cream is evenly distributed. The richness of the ube is balanced by the lightness of the whipped cream.” He swipes his tongue over the fork to get the excess whipped cream.

“Uh,” Kuroo says, and Kei feels stupid for a second until he follows up with, “Yeah. Yeah, I was also thinking that the way that the leavening agents reacted with the dough to make carbon dioxide gave the cake a nice rise and, uh, an airy texture which contributes to its tastiness.”

Kei looks at him blankly and Kuroo raises his hands in defeat.

“I have no idea what I’m saying. It’s yummy. Why? I don’t know.”

Kei tries, really tries to hold it back, tries to push it back down his throat, but—

“Pfft!” He brings a hand up to cover his mouth and giggles helplessly into his palm.

“Tsukki?”

“You’re just—so—” Kei’s shoulders shake with the laughter he’s still trying so hard to contain. “You’re really funny, Kuroo-san.”

Kuroo puts his hand over Kei’s and gently tugs at it. “Why are you covering up your face, come on.”

Kei schools his face into neutrality and drops his hand.

Kuroo pouts, exaggerated, and Kei bites his lower lip as a smile fights its way back out.

“That’s more like it,” Kuroo says, blush back on his face. His hand, still wrapped around Kei’s and resting on the table, squeezes.

Kuroo doesn’t seem like he’s going to remove his hand, and Kei doesn’t do anything to pull away. He uses his other hand to get another forkful of cake and holds it out. Kuroo leans in.

They trade bites and have almost finished the cake when Kuroo says, “You’ve gotta go after this, huh?”

“Yes.” He’s already cutting it close. He wanted to leave by 6 PM, but if that turns into 7 PM, well, he doesn’t mind as much as he thought he would.

Besides, Kuroo came out to Miyagi for Kei’s birthday two months ago. Without advance notice. Kei strongly suspects that he texted Hinata, who texted Yamaguchi, who texted Kuroo that Kei had no plans on his birthday weekend, but Kei was not about to embark on the same run-around and did Kuroo the courtesy of asking directly if he was free the Sunday after his birthday and wanted to go out.

He can’t say he’s only doing it to repay the favor, though. Kuroo is surprisingly easy to talk to and fun to banter with, and Kei has never denied an attraction to him. They fit together in surprising but comfortable ways.

“We probably won’t see each other again until you guys are here for nationals,” Kuroo says. His mouth twists unhappily.

“We might be able to squeeze another date in before then,” Kei says thoughtfully, and takes a sudden interest in the plastic fork they’ve been eating with.

In his periphery, Kuroo almost falls over in his chair. “Another? This was a date?”

That—was not reaction Kei was expecting. The anxiety in his stomach bundles and packs itself away and he looks at Kuroo flatly.

“I wouldn’t take a four-hour train to Tokyo, especially when it’s not even a holiday weekend, to visit just anyone.”

“I mean, I wanted it to be, but I didn’t think—shit,” Kuroo says. “Can I kiss you? I’ve been wanting to all day.”

He’s blushing again but Kei is sure that he is, too, in the face of such a straightforward request.

“Yes.”

They both lean forward and meet halfway. Their lips slot together, and Kuroo presses into it a little too eagerly so that it’s more squish than kiss, and Kei breaks away with a huff of laughter. Kuroo, undeterred, goes in for another kiss, and then a third, before he sits back again.

Kei runs his tongue over his lips, an unconscious action he becomes hyperaware of when he notices Kuroo staring intently.

They clear their throats at the same time and both laugh, soft and almost shy. Kei didn’t realize he could feel like this, both pleased and nervous in the pit of his stomach and light in his heart.

“You can have the last bite,” Kuroo says, gesturing at the almost-finished cake.

“Are you sure? It’s yours.”

Kuroo shakes his head. “I’m savoring the taste of your lips,” he says, and winks broadly.

The moment is lost. Kei scowls at him and nearly shovels the last bit of cake in his mouth in one go, just out of spite. But the last bite is to be savored, and besides, Kei realizes, this will be the first thing they’ve properly shared as a couple. It’s going to be like this, being long-distance; they won’t get to share nearly enough together, be it experiences or cakes.

And so, Kei takes the last bite in slowly, lets the purple sweetness melt in his mouth before he swallows.

They’ll do their best, take what they can—little moments like this—and tuck them away until next time.

“You can pick what we do next time,” Kei says, setting the fork down.

“Leave it to me!”

Kuroo salutes, and Kei doesn’t cover his smile this time, but he does look down to obscure it.

Purple cake crumbs still dot the plate. Kei presses his finger into them, then lifts it to his mouth and licks them off. He’s already looking forward to what they’ll share next.

* * *

**Winter**

Kei’s eyes flutter shut and he leans back against the headboard.

“You know, you didn’t have to come if you’re so sleepy,” Kuroo says. His hand rests warm on Kei’s shoulder.

It takes longer than he would like to sort his thoughts into a coherent reply. Kei opens his eyes to Kuroo kneeling in front of him, soft smile playing on his lips.

“It’s fine. I can’t get a second to myself at the inn, and. You said you wanted to see me.”

He didn’t notice the text from Kuroo until after his bath, and by then a reply was long overdue. He replied with fumbling fingers, asking if it was too late to go over, and he felt foolish the moment he hit send, but Kuroo responded in seconds.

“Well, I usually don’t get much privacy either, but I am at times able to exert my captainly influence and make the others pile into someone else’s room for once. Tonight, this room is _all ours_.” He drops his voice on the last two words, edging into suggestive.

There is nothing aroused about Kei’s groan.

“So, no sex?” Kuroo asks brightly.

He’s probably being facetious. They’ve never come close to sex in the grand total of two dates they’ve been on. On the other hand, there have been a few times when texting became… indecent. Kei squeezes his thighs together and curls his fingers into the bedsheet.

This isn’t why he’s here. Not that Kei would hate it, but he’s been thinking a lot lately. About Kuroo, and how he’s a third year, and how something is going to end tomorrow, no matter who wins. His eyes trace the fit of Kuroo’s red Nekoma jacket over his shoulders. He won’t have a reason to wear that anymore, in a few months.

Kuroo sighs into the silence and moves to lean against the headboard next to Kei, shoulders brushing. “Hey, good job today. You dealt with that Suna guy excellently.”

“Oh… thank you.”

He’s not surprised Kuroo caught what he could of Karasuno’s match against Inarizaki after winning his own match in straight sets. Kuroo has a vested interest in Karasuno, not just Kei. He’s been thinking a lot about that, too, about how it’s maybe possible that Kuroo got some signals crossed and didn’t realize.

“Kuroo-san, about tomorrow—”

“I thought I told you, you can drop the ‘san.’ We’re dating, aren’t we?”

“About tomorrow,” Kei says. “Nekoma versus Karasuno on the national stage. That’s what you’ve wanted this whole time, right?”

“Yes?” Kuroo says. “Like I said, I really wanted to make it happen for Coach Nekomata. He already retired once and came back, who knows when he’ll retire for good?”

“What about after tomorrow? What do you want next?”

Kuroo scratches his head. “Uhh… Haven’t really thought about it. I’ve been busting my ass to get us this far, there hasn’t been much time for anything else.”

Kei waits.

“I don’t know, I mean… I want the Nekoma volleyball club to keep doing well. I want Kenma to remember to stop playing video games and feed himself every once in a while. I’m thinking of assigning Lev to check in on him on days off, but I don’t know.”

That’s not what he wanted to know. To the extent that Kei knows Kuroo, the answer isn’t unexpected, exactly, and yet it’s not what he wanted to know at all. Kei can’t help the frustrated exhale as he turns away, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

“What’s wrong?” Kuroo’s hand brushes Kei’s shoulder, but he jerks away and stands up, facing away from the bed and from Kuroo.

“Nekoma, Kenma—that doesn’t have to do with you,” he says. “Even coming here to nationals, you always say you want to do it for the coaches. That’s why you helped me so much, isn’t it? To help Karasuno improve, to help make the Battle of the Trash Heap happen. And that’s—that’s great, really, but what do _you_ want?”

Except that’s not what he really wants to know, either. He’s not so good a person that his first priority is figuring out why Kuroo doesn’t think about himself first more often, although that’s something he’s filed away for the future, something he wants to make up for with dates and gifts and attention, in the future, if they have a future.

 _What about me?_ That’s what he wants to know. Where will his place be, after tonight?

“Hey, hey, you know I also helped you because I like _you_ , right?”

Kuroo moves to stand in front of him. Kei averts his eyes. He wishes Kuroo wasn’t wearing his jacket, that Nekoma red that reminds him of why they’re here, why either of them are here.

Everything comes back to volleyball in the end with him, a cough that persists long after the illness has passed. For once he’d like to have something that’s just his, unburdened by past regrets and complicated feelings.

“And it’s not like I don’t want to win for myself, either.” Kuroo hesitates. “What are you really asking? Is there something you want me to want?”

“After tomorrow,” Kei says, “what will we have in common?”

Kuroo doesn’t say anything for a long, long moment.

Kei swallows. “If—”

“Are you… worried about us?” Kuroo asks. “Is that it?”

“No,” he lies.

Kuroo grabs Kei’s hand in his. Kei is too startled to pull away.

“I know you think I’m a mind reader, but you have to actually tell me things sometimes.”

Damn it. He hates Kuroo’s perceptiveness, except for when he really wishes for it.

“Fine. Yes, I’m worried. Everything’s been leading up to this big match tomorrow, and. And I wonder if you only like me because I happened to be there. I wonder if, after you’re done with volleyball, you’ll realize that you have no reason to be interested in me anymore.”

“Um, okay,” Kuroo says. “Where do I even start? Yes, at first, I was helping you because you were another middle blocker and a starting member at Karasuno, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t develop feelings for you independent of that. You’re smart and funny. We like a lot of the same things, and even when we don’t, I want to read and watch and listen to the things you like because I want to know more about you and talk to you about things you’re interested in. I like talking to you. I like being around you. I like seeing you smile and hearing you laugh.”

He lifts Kei’s hand, places it against his chest. Through Kuroo’s shirt and jacket, his heart thumps against Kei’s palm. Kei looks despite himself and is surprised to find that the Nekoma red, stark under the harsh lights of the gymnasium, looks softer in the warm diffused light of Kuroo’s hotel room.

“Feel this? It’s beating so hard for _you_.”

Kei grits his teeth. “You’re an incurable sap.”

“You love me for it,” Kuroo says, tone flippant, but Kei’s stomach jumps anyway.

It’s a traitorous thought, one he doesn’t want to have but hasn’t been able to help thinking, unbidden, every once in a while, amid internal protests of _it’s too soon, what do you know_ and _he could never feel the same way_.

Kuroo’s mind-reading perceptiveness must be working this time, because he says, “I love you.”

Kei clenches his hand in Kuroo’s jacket.

Damn it. Damn it damn it damn it.

He doesn’t want to cry, not here, not over something so stupid as being told _I love you_.

And yet, his heart is aching in its relief and there’s something sharp and painful in his throat.

“I—I love you, too.”

It’s a dizzying thing to say for the first time. Kuroo folds him into a hug. Kei buries his face in Kuroo’s shoulder and wills his tears away.

“What I want next, after tomorrow?” Kuroo says. “You. More and more you. As much as I can have, as often as I can have you. Can I have that?” He whispers, “Would you let me?”

The red of Kuroo’s jacket overwhelms his vision, and it seems a promise now instead of a threat.

“You can. I would.” He raises his head, brushes his cheek against Kuroo’s to deliver the last words directly to his ear, quiet. “I do.” 

* * *

**Spring**

Kei’s current hypothesis is that if he stares hard enough at his plate, the extra food that’s been foisted on him by Kuroo and Daichi will disappear without him having to eat it all.

It hasn’t worked yet, unfortunately.

He sets the paper plate down in front of him and leans back with a sigh, bracing his arms behind him with his palms flat on the ground. It’s not too hot or cold today. The cherry blossoms have all bloomed and escaped pink petals dance in the light breeze. Overlapped conversation fills the air. He can pick out Kuroo’s voice among the chatter, though he can’t make out the words.

There’s a tug in his gut to seek Kuroo out, to slip into the space beside him, but Kei doesn’t pursue it. For now, it’s enough to know he’s nearby.

At their last club meeting, Ukai announced that Nekoma would be meeting them in Miyagi for a picnic during spring break, and that’s where they are today, closing out the school year with good food and good company.

Well. Probably good company.

“Figured we should visit you country bumpkins for once since you’re always being overwhelmed by the city,” Kuroo said cheerfully when they arrived, while he and Daichi attempted to crush each other in a handshake. Meanwhile, Tanaka and Taketora were already shouting at each other, but it probably wasn’t hostile. Kei is pretty sure everyone likes each other.

The food is pretty much gone by now, most of the remnants on his plate on account of Kuroo and Daichi thinking he doesn’t eat enough. There’s no way he can eat all that, though, and he sighs, wondering how best to get rid of it. If he goes to throw it away, Kuroo and/or Daichi might notice him and get on his case. Hinata is always more than happy to finish Kei’s food, but he’s currently holding a volleyball and looks like he’s about to drag some hapless victims into a game, and Kei definitely doesn’t want to get caught up in that.

“You alright, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asks.

He turns as Yamaguchi, staring at him owlishly, steals a strawberry from his plate and eats it in one bite, some of the juice slipping down his thumb.

“I’m good,” he says. “And you can take the rest of my plate, if you want.”

“Yesss.” Yamaguchi swipes the plate up and digs into an onigiri.

They sit quietly, until Kuroo’s familiar laugh draws Kei’s attention to where he’s is sitting and talking with the other most recent graduates of Nekoma and Karasuno’s volleyball clubs.

Yamaguchi follows his gaze, and it must hit them both at the same time that they won’t be playing with these guys again, because Yamaguchi says, “I wonder what the new first years are gonna be like.”

“I just hope they’re not as rowdy as our current lot.” Kei looks pointedly at where Kageyama and Hinata are dragging Kenma by the arms to the middle of the park, the volleyball tucked under Hinata’s arm. Even further out, Tanaka and Nishinoya are engaged in a game of tag with several Nekoma members, including Taketora and Fukunaga. “I don’t think Ennoshita-san would be able to handle any more energetic idiots.”

“Oh yeah, and we’ll probably be getting a ton of new members since we went to nationals. Ennoshita-san was totally freaking out about that.”

“He sure landed a bad year to become captain. Karasuno is going to be completely different now.”

They share a sigh of commiseration for their future captain’s plight, and then Yamaguchi slaps Kei’s back a lot harder than would ever be necessary.

“But after that, it’s gonna be you!”

“Wait, what?”

“Come on,” Yamaguchi says with a grin, “Kageyama and Hinata are way too simpleminded to be captain, and there’s no way I can control them. That makes you our future Captain-san!”

That sounds like a nightmare.

“Please no,” Kei says. “Besides which, you’re already looking that far ahead, Yamaguchi?”

Yamaguchi bumps their shoulders. “I think you’re looking even farther, though.”

“What do you mean?”

Yamaguchi looks between Kei and Kuroo a few times. When Kei doesn’t say anything, he waggles his eyebrows.

“Stop that.”

“Tsukki’s in lo-ooove,” he singsongs. “So, what are you going to do? Are you gonna go to the same college? Move in with him?” He gasps. “Elope?! Right after this picnic?!”

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

This is why Kei doesn’t want people knowing about their relationship. It’s not a secret, exactly, but he values his privacy. So far, the only people who know about him and Kuroo are Yamaguchi, Kenma… Akaashi, Bokuto… Oh god, that’s already more people than he wants to know.

“We’re not going to do anything,” Kei says. “We’re just going to keep… being.”

“Boring,” Yamaguchi says.

Kei rolls his eyes, and Yamaguchi grins at him. His eyes flick away and back, and he digs his elbow into Kei’s side.

“Ooh, look, he’s coming over!”

“Seriously, shut up.”

“Sorry, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi giggles.

Kei needs to have words with him one of these days about apologizing when he absolutely doesn’t mean it. But for now, conscious of Kuroo drawing closer, he says nothing and lets Yamaguchi stand and jog off with a quick wave to Kei.

“Hinata! I want to play, too!”

“Me too, me too!” Lev and Inuoka chorus, stampeding after them.

Kuroo stops beside Kei and watches the group with his hands on his hips. “Ah, kids.”

“I don’t want to hear that from you,” Kei says. “Is Kenma-kun going to be okay?”

Kuroo stoops over, extending a hand. Kei takes it, and Kuroo pulls him up with a grunt. Kei stumbles a little, comes in close as he finds his footing, close enough that he could kiss Kuroo if he moved just a little more forward. Instead, they both take a step back at the same time, and Kuroo smiles at him.

“Don’t worry. If he doesn’t want to play, he won’t.” Kuroo hasn’t let go of Kei’s hand. “Come on.”

He leads Kei into the shade of one of the numerous cherry blossom trees dotting the park, away from everyone else. Kuroo looks good in the dappled light, pink petals drifting around him. Kei takes a step closer.

“Sorry we haven’t had any time to ourselves today,” Kuroo says, rubbing his thumb over the back of Kei’s hand.

“It’s okay,” Kei says. “Today was never just for us.”

He can’t expect to always have Kuroo to himself. Yes, maybe Kei’s gaze kept drifting over to Kuroo because they haven’t seen each other in person since nationals, but it’s fine. They text every day and video chat at least once a week. He couldn’t ask for more.

Except now that he has Kuroo in front of him, he’s still drifting closer into his space, heedless of their peers scattered short distances away. Kuroo slips his free hand under Kei’s shirt and rests it on his waist, pressing his thumb into the flesh above his hipbone.

“You still have about a week left of spring break, right?”

“Right.”

“My first semester starts while you’re still on break. Maybe you could visit? If you wanted to.”

Who is Kei trying to kid? He wants more, of course he does. And when Kuroo looks at him with bright, hopeful eyes, he remembers: he’s allowed to want. There’s no reason to be scared of wanting when Kuroo wants him back with equal voracity.

Time and again this year they’ve met in the middle, a little awkward and unsure at times as they’ve built their relationship up step by step, and now there’s a steady foundation for them to walk on, ready for them to step forward into their future, together.

Kei cups Kuroo’s cheek. Kuroo’s nostrils flare as he inhales, and Kei leans in.

“Tsukkuuun,” Kuroo says, but his smile mars the warning. “The others might see.”

As if Kei isn’t aware of that, of every pair of eyes, real or imagined, on the two of them, as he comes close enough to breathe in Kuroo’s air. He’s the one who asked for discretion, but now he’s wondering why, because some crazy part of him that’s getting louder and louder wants to let everyone know, right here and right now, that Kuroo is _his_ , his beautiful boy, and Kei feels so secure standing next to him but he’s still going to hold onto him with everything in him, just so Kuroo knows it. And maybe just because he wants to.

He plucks a petal from Kuroo’s hair. He holds it up for a moment pinched between his fingers, then releases it to join the rest. His eyes follow as it’s lifted back up to the cloud of pink blossoms above them, just bloomed, still on their branches and trembling in the breeze. A new beginning, but a continuation, too.

He looks back down to Kuroo and can’t even find it in him to be embarrassed by his besotted gaze.

“Let them see.”

He closes the distance.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to rowen for "tsukkun," which truly changed my kurotsuki shipping life
> 
> thank you so much for reading!!


End file.
